Building Blocks of Murder (2 page)

With a heavy sigh, she shoved the pile of underpants away and stood up. “Creepy,” she muttered as she glanced at the underwear. She needed to get away from this house before she became any more depressed, but as soon as she gathered her purse, the doorbell rang. Lacy stood on her toes to see out the door’s window. A large woman with broad shoulders and a short haircut stood on the other side.

“Hello, I’m Sheila Whitaker from the Society of American Downtowns. If you have a moment, I would like to talk to you about helping our cause.” Her voice was husky, somewhere between masculine and feminine, and she spoke forcefully, with authority.

Lacy looked at the business card the woman had given her, trying not to laugh at the unfortunate acronym for the SAD. “I was just going out,” Lacy said, giving a pointed glance toward the driveway. Belatedly she remembered that she had walked from her grandmother’s house, so there was no car to stare at, only empty pavement.

“This will just take a moment,” Sheila said plaintively.

Lacy suppressed a sigh and sagged in defeat against the doorframe. Taking her dejected pose as encouragement, Sheila began to speak. Lacy only listened with half an ear until she heard a familiar name.

“Wait, what did you say?” Lacy asked, standing straight.

“I said a group of developers wants to tear down the Stakely building,” Sheila repeated. The excitement level in her tone notched up at having finally caught Lacy’s interest.

“But that place is beautiful,” Lacy said. The Stakely building was a huge four story brick building in the center of town. It was one of the oldest and most architecturally interesting buildings in the tiny town. As a young girl, Lacy had found it artistically inspiring. She could almost credit the massive structure with her career choice. Imagining the many stories that could take place in the Stakely building had no doubt shaped Lacy as a writer. “Why do they want to tear it down?”

“They want to put up a strip mall,” Sheila said, her tone derisive. “One of those plain cinderblock buildings with a metal roof and neon signs.”

Lacy’s jaw dropped. “That’s horrible. That will ruin what little downtown we have. Surely the town council and mayor won’t go along with that.”

Sheila barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re too new or too young to know much about the politics in this town. Money talks, and the developers are throwing around a whole bunch of money. My effort to try and save the Stakely building is a last-ditch longshot unless I can gain some major support.” She tipped her head to the side and gave Lacy an up and down critical inspection. “Having young people at the meeting might go a long way in swaying the council. I think they’re under the belief that young people only want what’s new and modern and that’s what will draw kids back here again.”

Lacy frowned as she studied the card in her hand again. “When is the meeting?”

“Tonight at seven at the town hall. Please come, and bring as many young people as you can find.”

With that, Sheila steamrolled to the next house in the neighborhood. Lacy wondered if the older woman thought she knew of some secret hangout where all the “young people” in town hid during the day. As far as Lacy knew, she made up one-third of the young demographic. But why was that? Why was their town dying? And what could be done to bring it back to life?

Those questions kept her mind busy on the short walk back to her grandmother’s house. When she arrived home, she found her grandfather sitting in the living room waiting for her grandmother to finish getting ready. Lacy smiled at the picture he made, just like a real suitor waiting for his girlfriend. Absently she wondered if she should play the role of the strict relative who imposed curfew rules for her grandma, but the thought of telling her former high school principal to have his date home early was too embarrassing to contemplate.

“Hi,” Lacy said when she bounded into the house. She hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to call him “Grandpa,” but “Mr. Middleton” felt too formal. Most of the time, she avoided the topic by not addressing him by name at all.

“Hi, Lacy,” her grandfather said. He turned stiffly toward her and smiled.

“Are you sore?” she asked, noting the rigid set of his shoulders.

“Just my arthritis acting up. If I were one of those boring old men who talked about the weather, I would tell you it’s going to rain soon.”

“I’m ready.” Lucinda Craig made the announcement as she stepped into the room. Her eyes were fastened on Mr. Middleton, and they were alive in a way Lacy had never seen them.

She’s in love,
Lacy thought with a combination of pleasure and envy.

Mr. Middleton labored to his feet. “I was just talking to Lacy.”

Lacy’s grandmother snapped to attention. “Oh, yes, hi, Lacy,” she said, clearly flustered and embarrassed by the raw display of emotion on her face.

“Hi, Grandma,” Lacy said. She glanced around the room to give her grandmother time to compose herself. She had no idea why her grandmother had so much trouble revealing her thoughts and emotions to others. Maybe it was a generational thing. Whatever the reason, Lacy was thankful she didn’t seem to be holding herself away from Mr. Middleton.

The doorbell rang, providing Lacy with an opportunity to take a step back and answer.

Jason stood on the other side, smiling devilishly. “Hey, Red, I think it’s time we talked about that kiss.”

Behind Lacy, Mr. Middleton purposefully cleared his throat. Jason had the good sense to look sheepish.

“So, you’re not alone,” he said.

“No, she isn’t,” Mr.
 
Middleton said. Apparently he suffered no compunctions about playing the role of the strict relative. Lacy wondered if he was about to tell Jason to have her home early, or something else out of the
You’re Dating My Granddaughter
handbook.

“Hi, Mr. Middleton,” Jason said, pivoting around Lacy and stepping inside. “Hello, Mrs. Craig.”

“Hello, Jason.” The two older adults spoke as a unit, although Lacy’s grandmother was smiling pleasantly and her grandfather was frowning.

Lucinda came forward and laid a hand on Mr. Middleton’s bicep. “Tom, hadn’t we better get going?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered darkly, his sharp gaze shooting between Lacy and Jason. Lacy resisted the urge to squirm under his inspection.

“We should go,” Lucinda reaffirmed. “You kids take care.” She took Mr. Middleton’s hand and began tugging as she walked toward the door.

Reluctantly, he followed her, but when he reached the door, he paused and turned back to Jason. “Remember that time your junior year I found you and Madison Thompson behind the stage during sixth period?”

“Yes,” Jason said. Lacy had never heard his voice crack before.

“I’d better not find you that way with my granddaughter. Ever.” With that, he turned and walked out of the house, closing the door firmly behind him.

Lacy wanted to ask exactly how he had been found with Madison Thompson, but as soon as her grandparents left the house, so did her courage. There was a reason she hadn’t spoken to him in the two weeks since they kissed; she had no idea what to say.

Jason, however, seemed immensely relieved when the door closed. He turned to Lacy with a grin. “Mr. Middleton never gets any less scary, you know? He’s like the Dick Clark of principals—timeless.”

Lacy stared blankly at him until his smile slipped.

“C’mon, Lacy, you’re not still mad at me, are you?”

That provoked a reply. “Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I kissed you. You said no kissing or we couldn’t be friends.”

“You didn’t kiss me; I kissed you,” she argued.

“That’s not how I remember it,” Jason said. “You were crying, and I kissed you to make you feel better.”

“No.” Lacy shook her head. “I was crying and I kissed you to make myself feel better.”

“And then you ran away.”

She looked away then, searching for anything other than his face to focus on. “I had to. I was embarrassed.”

“Why were you embarrassed? It was a good kiss, great even. Shakespeare could have written sonnets about that kiss.” He paused and now it was his turn to look down. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, actually.”

That drew her attention back to him. “Really?” She hadn’t made a total fool of herself? She hadn’t sent him screaming for cover by blatantly throwing herself at him?

He looked up and their eyes locked. “Really.”

The air between them crackled for a few beats, and then she was in his arms with no recollection of how she got there. His hands grasped her biceps while his head dipped toward her, but then he paused.

“Should we be doing this?” he asked. “Don’t we need to talk about it first?”

“When did you become a girl?” she asked. “No talking; just kiss me.”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and then he kissed her.

He was much taller than she, and the height difference made kissing while standing awkward, especially when she was wearing flat-heeled sneakers as she was today. She pressed him against the back of the couch behind him, vaguely urging him to sit down. But when he bumped the couch, he overbalanced. Toppling backward, he latched onto her to try to right himself, not realizing that since she was smaller she would simply fall with him.

Together, they somersaulted over the couch, bumped into the coffee table, scattered a stack of newspapers into the air, and landed hard on the floor with Jason solidly on top of Lacy, his shoulder smashing her face.

“Are you okay?” he said when he found enough air to speak.

“I think so,” she replied, her voice muffled against his shirt. He shimmied down in order to free her face so that when he spoke again they were nose to nose.

“Please tell me that little incident wasn’t actually your plan when you backed me into the couch.”

“I just wanted to sit down, but you should know up front that my plans never work out so well.” She smiled. He smiled. She closed her eyes and tipped her face up to receive his kiss, but it never came. When she opened her eyes a few seconds later, she realized that a headline from one of the newspapers had caught his attention.

His lips moved as he silently read the words, and then he rolled off her and snatched up the paper. Lacy peered over her shoulder and smiled self-consciously when she read her own name.

“What is this?” Jason asked. He held out the paper in her direction and looked up.

“I’ve been freelancing for the paper,” Lacy said, fighting a blush. Though the article had originally been intended for their small town’s local paper, it had been picked up by a wire service before quickly going national. Lacy’s name was now in some of the largest papers in the country, and her grandparents had bought them all, which was why so many papers were now scattered around the living room after Jason and Lacy crashed into them.

“Are you kidding me?” Jason asked, incredulous.

Lacy was just about to reassure him that her newly attained notoriety was no big deal, but then he continued.

“Are you insane? I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

She sat up and scooted away from him and he did the same so there were now two feet between them. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything to you.”

“Really? Because I would call writing a scathing article about the sheriff’s department a pretty lousy thing to do to me.”

“Jason,” she implored. “The article has nothing to do with you. It’s all about Detective Brenner and his incompetence.”

“No, Lacy, it’s not. It’s a reflection on the entire department and it makes us all look like a bunch of hick yokel bumbling idiots. This article does nothing but reinforce the stereotype of the ignorant small-town cop.” He finished speaking and threw the paper down in disgust.

“It does no such thing,” Lacy argued. She picked the paper up and tapped it for emphasis. “This isn’t simply about how he mishandled my grandmother’s case. I went back for the last few years since he’s been head detective and found a whole handful of cases that he mishandled.”

Jason slapped his palm to his forehead. “That’s what the subpoena was about.”

“What subpoena?” she asked.

“The subpoena I received today about an old closed case from years ago when I first started on the force. I caught and arrested the bad guy, but Detective Brenner was the officer in charge of the case. Now, thanks to you, lawyers are going to have a heyday reopening all the old cases and letting guilty men go free.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Lacy said with slightly less conviction.

“Don’t be naïve, Lacy. That’s exactly what’s going to happen. You could have filed a formal complaint against Brenner and opened an official investigation into his handling of your grandmother’s case but, no, you had to vet your issues in a national forum and now my entire department is going to get dragged through the mud. And everyone is going to blame me because you’re my…because we…” He broke off with a disgusted grunt before jumping nimbly to his feet.
 

Lacy also dashed to her feet, although far less gracefully. “Why are you taking this so personally? This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.”

“Why am I taking this personally? Because it is personal, Lacy. This is my job, my life. It wasn’t enough that you had to stick your nose in your grandmother’s case and almost get yourself killed, but now you’re sticking your finger in cases that are none of your business. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve just caused?”

“If Detective Brenner’s bumbling has put even one innocent person in jail and this investigation helps make him free, then it will all be worth it.”

Jason pressed his palms to his eye sockets and groaned. “You and your ideals.”

“Yes, me and my ideals,” she said. “Don’t you want to see justice served? Don’t you want to see the innocent protected?”

He dropped his hands from his eyes and gave her a weary look. “What about me? I’m innocent, but now I’m going to be dragged through the mud until the mess you’ve caused gets cleared up.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she assured him. “You’re a good cop, Jason, and everyone knows it.” Her hand reached out to rest on his forearm, but he took a step back.